


Home Again Soon

by TheLastSaskDragonRider



Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, enough violence to justify a lot of comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29301411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastSaskDragonRider/pseuds/TheLastSaskDragonRider
Summary: Watts is kidnapped.(takes place between season 13/14, no season 14 spoilers)
Relationships: Jack Walker/Llewellyn Watts
Comments: 16
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

The rain on the window wakes Jack early in the morning and he finds himself trapped within warm embrace. With a smile, he settles back down in Llewellyn’s arms. He remembers after a satisfying night, he had put his arm around Llewellyn and brought him up against his chest. Before they went to sleep, he had kissed Llewellyn’s forehead. As usual, during the night, somehow they had changed positions and now Llewellyn is wrapped around Jack, his chest pressed against Jack’s back. Carefully, Jack turns around in Llewellyn’s arms to look up at his still sleeping face. His features are soft and relaxed in slumber, his marble and firm lines relaxed into soft cotton. Jack can’t help but raise his fingers to trace across Llewellyn’s slightly chapped lips and unshaven chin. At the slight touch, Llewellyn stirs and sleepily blinks open his eyes. Immediately he smiles at the sight of Jack in his arms.

“Good morning,” he says softly.

“Morning,” Jack answers. “What time is it?”

Llewellyn lets one arm go to reach to what has become his night stand to check his pocket watch. “Just past six,” he says.

With a groan, Jack sits up and says, “I need to get up soon.”

“Stay,” Llewellyn says, pulling Jack back down into his arms which he doesn’t protest to, allowing a couple of deep good morning kisses. He could’ve stayed there for hours, but he knows that he needs to go open his store for the morning costumers and he knows Llewellyn’s schedule too.

“You need to get up too, Llewellyn,” Jack scolds as they part for air. “You have that court case this morning.”

With a sigh and yawn, Llewellyn sits up. “Yes, the wheels of justice must turn,” he says as he shakes out his curls. “Time for Mr. Price to pay for what he’s done.”

“He’s definitely guilty then?” Jack asks as he sits up himself, propping up against the headboard.

“Yes. Harry Price killed his sister-in-law’s family. Harry Price took a hatchet to his sister-in-law, her mother and father while his brother was at work. The brother returned home to find his wife and her family hacked to pieces on the floor. Though the Crown Prosecutor thinks that the defense attorney might make a case so he is putting a lot of stress on my statement.”

“Sounds gruesome,” Jack says.

“Hm... yes. After the case, I will be relieved to see Harry Price behind bars and to be back in bed with you.”

“I won’t be home tonight, it’s Monday—“

“--and you will be at your mother’s house,” Llewellyn finishes for him. “Of course. Then in that case, I would like a kiss to make up for lost time tonight.”

They kiss and only barely manage to drag themselves out of the warm bed to dress and get ready for the day. Jack shrugs on his shirt and watches as Llewellyn crawls under the bed to find his sock, admiring his ass. Finding his missing sock, Llewellyn looks up to find Jack staring at him and blushes as he sees Jack’s eyes on him, his eyes dropping down and catching sight of Jack’s undone cuffs.

“Let me get that for you,” Llewellyn says. He does up the cuffs on Jack’s sleeves and when he’s finished, he keeps holding Jack’s hands and raises them to his lips, dropping a kiss on his knuckles. “There we go.”

Jack smiles and returns the kiss on Llewellyn’s cheek. “Thank you.”

When breakfast is finished and Llewellyn is pulling on his jacket to leave, it’s still raining. “My hair will be a mess by the time I get to the court house,” he complains.

“I think you look handsome when your hair is untamed,” Jack says, gently curling a stray lock off Llewellyn’s forehead.

The tips of his ears turn red. It always warms Jack’s heart to make Llewellyn blush. No matter how often Jack compliments and praises Llewellyn, it never fails to make him blush.

“Unfortunately, my hair like that would not be very detective like,” Llewellyn says.

“Alright. I can’t have my sweetheart looking unkempt on the stand, but tomorrow night, when I get my hands in your hair and I’ll tug it just how you like...” He suggestively winks at him as he walks over to the closet to find an umbrella he is sure he had.

“Thank you,” Llewellyn says as Jack passes him an umbrella. “Since you won’t be home tonight, shall I come pick you up at your shop tomorrow evening?”

“7:15?”

“On the dot.” Llewellyn punctuates the statement with a kiss on his cheek before slipping out the door.

Jack wishes for a better society where he could watch Llewellyn walk away freely, but he has to hide behind his door, clutching the spot where Llewellyn had kissed him moments ago.

Leaving the shelter of the building, Llewellyn opens the umbrella and turns down an alley way as a short cut to the court houses. Llewellyn ambles down the street, his free hand jammed firmly in his pocket, idly flipping the face of his pocket watch open and close.

He reviews the Harry Price case in his head as he idly walks down the street. The case started in November. He was summoned to a house in a rather quiet neighbourhood, simple and normal he assumes, except for the corpses in the house on the corner. Florence Price and her parents were slaughtered at the dinning room table. There were footsteps in the blood that lead to one of the rooms upstairs. The bedroom belonged to the brother in law of Florence Price, Harry Price that was suspiciously missing. Of course, Watts didn’t assume that Harry Price was the murderer, he could’ve been out of town or murdered victim himself, but carefully combing through the house with Murdoch, they found bloodied finger marks all over the house, bodies and murder weapon, all belonging to Harry Price. Carl Price, husband of Florence and younger brother of Harry, was away on a business trip, but returned as soon as he was notified. Carl Price was unhelpful to the investigation, he was overwhelmed by grief by the loss of his beloved wife. Maybe too unhinged because last time Watts heard of Carl Price, he was in an asylum since he went mad with grief. All that he learned from Carl Price was that his brother was prone to bursts of rage and may or may not have killed the family dog when they were young.

Watts followed Harry Price to a hotel where he wasn’t even trying to hide, judging by the lavish spending gained from pawning items stolen from Florence and her family. Price didn’t show remorse and allowed Watts to escort him to the station house where he confessed to the murder with absolute glee and relish with each vivid detail. Price hinted that he may have killed someone before and Watts knew that if it wasn’t Florence Price and her family, it would’ve been someone else and he would’ve kept on killing if he wasn’t stopped.

Today, Watts has enough time before the court trail to go see a witness to a break-in that he’s working on. Quietly, he muses the possible motives and suspects for the break in when he heard footsteps behind him. He half turns around as the footsteps approaches quickly, but before he can see who it is, his vision explodes into bright light as something hard hit the side of his head. Llewellyn stumbles, his umbrella falling from his hands. He has a brief thought of forlorn for Jack’s ruined umbrella when the bat hits the side of his head again and Llewellyn falls the ground, everything falling to darkness.

The sky was rather dark with rainclouds and George is glad that the criminal classes of Toronto have decided to take a day off. There’s a murder case that Murdoch has been working on and George hopes that Murdoch won’t send him out to collect evidence.

The letter H gets stuck on George’s typewriter and he’s picking it free as the phone rings in the Inspector’s office.

A couple of moments later, the Inspector hangs up the phone and storms out of his office. “Watts!” Brackenreid bellows.

“He’s not here, sir,” George says, turning around in his chair. “Isn’t he supposed to be down at the courthouses, testifying against Harry Price?”

“That’s where he’s supposed to be, but I just got off the phone with Crown Prosecutor Evans and he says that Watts never showed up at the courthouse.”

“Sir, that’s not like Detective Watts,” George says. “Yes, in the past he’s forgotten about meetings with the Chief Constable... also there was that time that he forgot to go to Hamilton for that presentation... but he’s gotten better recently I’ve observed. It’s usually when someone gets a sweetheart in their life they are more likely to pay attention to their schedule so that they can spend as much time as possible with each other.”

“Yes, yes, yes Crabtree, that doesn’t matter right now though does it? We need Watts at the court house as soon as possible or else the case against Harry Price will be thrown out.”

“Mr. Evans is a capable prosecutor, I highly doubt that the case will be thrown out, but I’ll go out and try to find Detective Watts.”

George hurries out of the Station House as Brackenreid glares at his retreating back.

George starts at Watts’ boarding house, but hears from a rather nosy neighbour that Watts didn’t come home last night. Walking back the couple of blocks to where Effie and Jack live, he starts the walk to the courthouse. First he takes a direct route, stopping at a few intersections to ask constables if they had seen Watts. Coming up without any leads by the time he gets to the court house, George doubles back, taking the most winding route he can. Assisting Watts on cases, he knows that Watts likes to take meandering routes through the city, taking back lanes, doubling back to talk to food vendors or street boys, or taking a longer route if it means that he could walk through a park.

After trooping through the city streets for a hour and a half, George can no longer feel his toes, so he steps into a quiet bar to warm up for a little while. The bar is rather busy for a morning, most likely any one on the street has been chased in by the rain.

“Hello Constable, how can I help you today?” the bar keeper says.

“Just in here to warm my toes!” George reassures. “Anyways, while I’m in here, have you seen police detective today? He’s about my height – actually a bit taller but he has a tendency to slouch – and he might be wearing a plaid suit and a grey hat.”

“Grey hat?” The bar keep points to a man huddled in a corner with a grey hat.

“Watts?” George asks, but the man who looks up is definitely not the detective. It’s a homeless man, clothes tattered and his face unshaven, but the hat looks too new and familiar. “Sir. Where did you get that hat.”

‘It’s mine!”

“I’m just asking where you got it from,” George says.

“Well... it happened to be my lucky day. I was in the alley way behind Maude and I saw a man drop it. After a bit of a dry, it’ll be as good as new.”

“May I see it?”

“But it’s mine,” the homeless man says, clutching the hat.

“Give me it.”

George manages to grab the hat away from the man. He inspects the hat carefully and finds on the silk band on the inside a LW written in smudged ink. George rounds on the homeless man. “You said that you saw someone drop it. What exactly did you see?”

“I’m not telling you,” the man says, crossing his arms.

“Fine, you’re coming down to the station house with me,” George grabs his arm and starts dragging him out of the bar.

The man complains all the way to the station house, but the worry growing in George’s gut grows. At the station house, Brackenreid and Julia are in Murdoch’s office discussing a case when Crabtree comes back to the station house with the homeless man in two.

“Sir, I haven’t found Detective Watts, but I think we’ll like to speak with this man,” Crabtree says.

“Hey now I didn’t do anything.”

“Your name, sir?” Murdoch asks.

“James Leroy. All I did was pick up a hat.”

“A hat?”

“This one.” George hands Murdoch Detective Watt’s hat. Murdoch comes to the same conclusion as George.

“Mr. Leroy, how exactly did you come across this hat?”

“I found it. On the ground. In a puddle. Nobody would want it,” Leroy says.

Murdoch frowns. “Mr. Leroy. This hat belongs to a police detective who is now missing.”

“So?”

“You’re not telling us everything,” Brackenreid snaps. “And unless you do, you’ll be seeing the inside of a cell and maybe a couple of fists if you’re not lucky. Now what did you see?”

Leroy huffs and rolls his eyes. “Do I get to keep that hat?”

“No!”

“Fine. Fine, I was just asking. As I said, I was walking down Adelaide when I saw down Maude a man wearing that hat. He dropped it.”

“And then he didn’t pick it up again?”

“It would’ve been hard for him seeing that he got hit in the head and shoved into a carriage.”

“Are you saying that someone abducted Detective Watts?” Julia asks.

“Exactly what I’ve been saying this whole time. Women never listen.”

“McNabb! Get this man down to the cells,” Brackenreid bellows.

“Wait! I haven’t done anything.”

“Failure to report a crime, obstruction of justice, anything I can find that will stick,” Brackenreid says, shoving Leroy into McNabb’s arms. “Get him out of my sight.”

“Are we going to trust what he’s saying?” George asks after McNabb drags Leroy out of Murdoch’s office.

“He seems sincere,” Julia says. “On such a rainy day, would Detective Watts leave his hat willingly?”

“Detective Watts wouldn’t miss such an important court case,” Murdoch says. “I think our only conclusion can be that someone did in fact abduct Detective Watts.”

“Higgins!” Brackenreid bellows.

“Sir?”

“Get all constables and start searching the city for any sign of Detective Watts,” Brackenreid orders. “Now!” Henry scurries off as Brackenreid turns to the rest. “How are we going to start?”

“We’ll start at Maude where Leroy saw the abduction, see if we can find any clues,” Murdoch says. “Someone needs to go talk to Harry Morgan.”

“I’ll go have a chat with him,” Brackenreid growls.

“Good. Julia, can you go over Detective Watts’ files to see if there are any people who would want to kidnap him?”

“Of course.”

Murdoch grabs his jacket but pauses before he leaves the office. “Should we contact Clarissa Watts?”

“Why her?” Brackenreid asks.

“We need to contact the next of kin as always,” Murdoch says.

George glances around Murdoch’s office at William, Julia, and Brackenreid. “Sir... I think his whole family is here,” he says, gesturing around the room.

“That’s true,” Julia says. “Detective Watts is an orphan, he lost his brothers, his sister is abandoned him. We are the only family he got.”

Brackenreid sighs and shakes his head. “Just one person missing.” He sighs and grabs his hat. “I’ll be right back.”

It’s the cold that rouses Watts. Icy cold water dripping down on to his forehead. He starts awake and reflexively tries to sit up but finds his wrists bound in handcuffs in front of him around a pole. He shakes his head, but it does nothing to clear his vision. After blinking a couple of times, Watts figures that his vision is fine and unimpaired by a blindfold, instead, he is in a pitch dark place. He figures that he must be in a cellar or basement of some kind, cuffed to a pipe or a support pillar by his wrists. He can feel a thin layer of straw underneath him, bits and pieces not swept up by the stable boy or house maid.

By this time, his eyes have some what adjusted to the darkness and he’s able to see faint outlines of his surroundings. The ceiling above him is old and decrepit, a bit of weak grey light leaking through which he now sees by. The room he is in is empty except for some crates covered with sheets. The room must be at least 20 feet long and there’s a faint outline of a ladder at the opposite end. Above the maybe ladder is a outline of a square of light which must be the trap door up.

Water drips down from the cracks above him, every so often landing on his shoulders. Watts shifts around the pole so that the water no longer runs in cold rivers down his shirt back. Somewhere along the way, he had lost his hat, which is no surprise, but still some part that’s not consumed by panic mourns the loss of his trusty grey hat. He still has his shoes and jacket on. His pockets have been rifled through and emptied, but his clothes remained intact. The notes that stuffed his pockets are gone and is the lunch that Jack packed him. Remembering food, his stomach gives a little growl and he realizes how parched his mouth is too. Watts shakes his head and pushes those thoughts to the back of his head for now.

Struggling to his feet, still handcuffed to the pole, he reaches out with his foot in all directions, trying to find something to use. Coming up with nothing, next he tries the wooden pillar he’s tied around. Even though the cellar he is in is decrepit, the pillar is solid.

“Hello?” he calls out cautiously. “Hello! Is anyone there?”

No one answers so he tries again louder and louder, but there’s never an answer. Considering that his surroundings and situations, it’s reasonable to think that there’s no one around to help.

Sinking down to the floor again, there is nothing he can do except to wait.


	2. chapter 2

The bell chimes happily as Brackenreid pushes into Jack Walker’s butcher shop. “Walker,” he greets as he looks around to make sure that they’re alone.

“Hello Inspector,” Jack says. “Did Mrs. Brackenreid send you for the usual?”

“No. I need to talk to you.”

Jack freezes for a moment and cautiously says, “Sir?” as he leans back against the counter in an effort to seem casual.

Before he starts talking, Brackenreid flips the open sign to close. “Listen... Mr. Walker. Have you heard from Detective Watts?”

“No,” Jack says, a look of worry flashing over his face. “Is he okay, Inspector?”

“Mr. Walker, we believe that he was kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?” Jack jumps up. “What do you mean kidnapped? Who has him? Where is he? Since when?”

“Calm down, Mr. Walker!” Brackenreid says over Jack’s panicked rambling. “He was kidnapped this morning. We’re doing everything we can—“

“Everything you can? He’s been missing since this _morning_? Why haven’t you come to tell me this before? I need to go and find him—“ Jack starts taking off his bloodied apron.

“Mr. Walker. Hold up a moment.” Brackenreid waits until Jack stops moving. “Look, we didn’t come to tell you sooner since... well... you’re... you and Watts... ahem, as Watts’... erm... look, we’re telling you now.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No. Stay here,” Brackenreid says. “Usually, we would have the family of the victim down at the station, but since you two are... We’re trying to be discrete about the two of you so go home. If we need you, we’ll give you a call.”

Jack nods slowly, but doesn't look up at Brackenreid as he leaves the shop.

At the court house holding cells, Murdoch enters to meet Harry Price. Murdoch had only seen Price in passing from the station house’s interrogation room to the cells and he had reviewed the case notes from Watts (and then re-transcribed the notes). All the evidence against Price was solid and there were no signs that the confession was false. In fact, Price seemed to revel in the fact he had killed his sister-in-law and her parents.

Harry Price smirked up at them as Murdoch sat down in the chair across from him. “So. Are you the reason that my trial was postponed?”

“You know very well why your trial was stopped,” Murdoch says.

“Really? Enlighten me.”

“Detective Watts has gone missing, and we believe you have something to do with it.”

Price settles back in his seat with a wide grin across his face. “I’ve been in here for six months. How could I have anything to do with your precious detective’s disappearance?”

“So it’s just a coincidence that Detective Watts, the lead detective on your case who was set to testify against you, goes missing on the first day of your trial?”

“What can I say?” Price says with a shrug.

“Where’s your brother?” Murdoch asks.

“Still in the asylum. Heard he went off the deep end,” Price says with an easy drawl.

“If we hear that you or your brother had anything to do with Detective Watts’ disappearance, both of you will get jail time.”

“Listen, Detective, I’m here because I’ve confessed to killing three people. Do you really think the threat of five to ten years for abducting a police officer will scare me?”

It’s getting rather dark outside. Watts has spent the time in the afternoon trying to get out of the handcuffs. In full light and with a proper lock pick, he’s never got the trick of lock picking, but out of boredom and desperation, he tries to use the straw he’s sitting on to pick at the locks on the handcuffs. His wrists are sore from all the attempts to wrangle his way out of the cuffs, but there are no variations of kicking and twisting that lets him escape.

There’s a loud crash and Watts looks up in surprise to see someone coming down the ladder from the trapdoor. The man has a lantern, causing Watts to squint his eyes against the sudden light. When his eyes adjust, he’s not surprised to see Carl Price, brother of Harry Price. Watts hasn’t seen Price since he had interviewed him during the course of the investigation and there is a new layer of crazy in his eyes.

Without preamble, Carl reaches Watts and punches him in the face. “Why haven’t the police let go of my brother?” Price shouts. “You weren’t there to testify that supposedly my brother killed sweet Florence, they should’ve let him go!”

“Thhhaaat’s not how our justice system works,” Watts says and after a pause, “You think that your brother didn’t kill your wife?”

“He would never hurt my wife,” Price says, pacing wildly in front of him.

“He admits as much,” Watts says. “His finger marks were on the machete, your neighbours place him at the scene of the crime—“

Another punch cuts him off as Price shouts, “My brother would never!”

Watts spits out blood and shakes his head to clear the stars in front of his eyes. “Mr. Price. I understand that you’re upset, but all the evidence points to—“

“Shut up!” The order is punctuated with kick to the stomach. “He’s my little brother. He would never kill anyone.”

“Mr. Price—“

“He’s all I have left in this world, he can’t go to jail.”

“I understand that you would like to protect someone you love, but he’s killed three people. It’s out of my hands. There’s no way that the courts will let him go.”

“You know what your justice system is going to do? They’re going to let him go if they want to see you alive again.”

Llewellyn barely has time to curl up to protect his chest and face as best he could before punches and kicks rain down on his body. It’s a particularly well placed punch to the temple that knocks him unconscious.

Jack nearly doesn’t go to his mother’s house, but it’s Monday and no matter how worried he is, he would hate to worry his mother. It’s a bit later than he usually arrives when Jack unlocks the door and slips inside his childhood home. The house is so comfortingly familiar that Jack nearly wants to cry, his emotions already on a wobble since Brackenreid came into his shop with the news.

“Darling? Is that you?” His mother comes out of the kitchen. Her face lights up as sees Jack, but her brow furrows as her gaze lands on his face. “Jack? Is everything okay?”

“Of course, Mother,” Jack tries to rearrange his face in a more neutral expression as he bends down and gives her a kiss on both cheeks. “Long day of work, that’s all.”

“If that’s all,” she says, but the way she looks at him as she pats his cheek, Jack knows he hasn’t fooled her. She had taken care of him by herself since he was young when his father died. Her hair has been white for as long as he could remember, he thinks the premature grey is from the stress of bringing him up alone but she never complained and her face remains youthful. She didn’t understand at first when he told her that he was homosexual, but she had took his hand and promised that he had her full love and support no matter what. Telling her his biggest secret had also brought them closer, though neither had brought up the subject of his sexuality for a long time.

After dinner, they retire to the sitting room, Jack bringing in his mother’s tea for her.

“Jack, come here,” she says as Jack starts to move away to sit in near by chair and she pats the spot next to her on the settee. Jack sinks down on the coach beside her, avoiding her eyes. She takes his hand and with her other hand curls his hair around his ear tenderly. “Darling, what’s on your mind?”

“I... I don’t want to burden with this, Mother. It’s nothing. Really.”

“It seems to be taking up a lot of room in here,” she says, touching his forehead. “Perhaps it will help if you let it out.”

Jack hesitates. “Mother... remember when I told you... that I wasn’t like other boys? Well, I’ve met someone.”

“Oh Darling, I’ve known.”

“How?”

“You’ve had... a glow. A happy glow.”

“You didn’t mention anything...”

“Neither did you. It was up to you to tell me and I couldn’t pry until you were ready to tell me.” She smiles at him and then asks, “Why bring it up today? Did he break your heart?”

“No! Llewellyn would never break my heart,” Jack says indignantly.

She claps her hands together happily. “His name is Llewellyn! Such a beautiful and dignified name.” Her eyes sparkle. “What’s the matter then if you have a handsome man beside you?”

“He’s gone missing. No one knows where he is. His colleagues don’t know where he is and his Inspector – Llewellyn is a police detective – came to my shop today to tell me that he’s been kidnapped. He’s missing and he could be hurt and I don’t know how to find him. I’m so scared that he’s hurt or... what if he’s dead? I can’t bear the thought of not being with Llewellyn.” He doesn't want to cry in the middle of his mother’s sitting room, but the tears spill over without him noticing.

“Oh baby,” his mother says and draws him into her arms. She tenderly wipes away the tears on his cheeks. “There we go. Chin up. You know what I always say. If you want him, go and get him.”

“You were talking about setting up my butcher’s shop,” Jack says with a laugh.

“Yes, but if you want your Llewellyn back, find him and bring him back home,” she says. “If he’s hurt, nurse him back to health.”

“No one can know about him and I,” Jack says. “He’ll loose his job if I’m seen as his sweetheart.”

“You’ll find a way to help find him, I know you will. You will bring him home.”

Jack smiles and holds onto her hand tightly. She drops the conversation until when Jack is putting on his hat and shoes to go back home.

“And Jack, darling. One more thing about Llewellyn?”

“Anything, Mother.”

“When you bring him home, bring him to visit me. I would love to meet your police detective friend.”

The morning after Watts had disappeared, Julia arrived at the station house at about seven in the morning. William had arrived home just after midnight and left the house soon after five in the morning, keeping on the fruitless search for Detective Watts. She had spent all of the day before going through Detective Watts’ files to find suspects. To Watts’ credit, there were a lot of solved cases to his name.

Today it the skies are still grey, though the rain had settled down into periodical bouts of light drizzle. Everyone in the station house is up and running, desperately looking for Detective Watts. As Julia enters William’s office, Brackenreid and Crabtree join them.

“What have you?” Murdoch asks Crabtree.

“Carl Price, brother of Harry Price and husband to Florence Price, was committed to the Toronto Insane Asylum in November of last year,” George reads aloud from his notes. “He left the asylum in January since the doctors deemed him no longer a harm to himself, but one of the nurses seems to think that he might still be--” George twirls a finger near his temple. “Since he left the asylum, nobody has heard of him. His house is abandoned, none of his relatives or associates have seen him or been contacted by him.”

“Have the constables come up with anything?” Murdoch asks.

“Not anything,” George says. “I have constables going door to door. We’ve already interviewed everyone from Walton to Wellington and William to Church. Nothing so far.”

“What did you get from the crime scene?” Brackenreid asks.

“I got imprints from a wagon, but the tracks are of average width, it could be from anything,” Murdoch says with a regretful shrug.

“Higgins and I went down to Maude this morning, maybe someone’s routine leads them through there at the same time every day,” Crabtree says. “There was one gentleman who recalls seeing a farm wagon in the alley way. Nothing spectacular about it, there was a tarp covering the back. One of the back wheels was damaged and held together rather poorly.”

“Alright, get constables out there searching for this wagon. Find out what vendors in the city get deliveries from farms, one of those farmer might know something,” Brackenreid orders. “and assemble the constables for morning briefing.”

“Sir.” George acknowledges with a short nod and heads out of the office.

“Alright, Dr. Ogden, what did you get from the files?”

“I’ve found a couple of people that could potentially want to hurt Detective Watts from his case files, but we can’t ignore the obvious that he was kidnapped the day that he was supposed to testify against Harry Price. I’ve checked the files from the asylum.”

“And what did you find?”

“I am concerned,” Julia says. “Carl Price was unstable from the grief from loosing his wife and parents-in-law. According to his patient notes, when he got news that his brother was arrested for the murders, he just... fell apart.”

“But then a couple of months later he was let out?”

“Yes. The asylum was getting over crowded and Mr. Price was put together again by that time so he was released, but he wasn’t done his treatment and he is the kind of person who is susceptible for a relapse.” 

“Right, so the asylum don’t know where he is, but that doesn't mean we can’t find him. Let’s get everyone....” Brackenreid trails off, looking over Julia’s shoulder into the reception, and groans. “Bloody hell.”

William and Julia turn around to see Jack Walker standing in the front reception, worrying his hat in his hands and looking rather lost. Brackenreid marches out of the office and grabs Jack by his arm, dragging him into his office. “What are you doing here?” he nearly yells. “I told you to stay at home.”

Jack looks around at William and Julia who followed them into the office in the office, but decides to speak anyways. “I couldn’t sit at home knowing that Llewellyn was kidnapped. You said that usually the closest to the victim are here at the office to help you with your investigation...”

Brackenreid sighs. “Yes, but no one can know about you and Watts. You being here puts both of you in danger.”

“Please,” Jack begs. “You can arrest me for being indecent and throw me in the cells, I wouldn’t mind as long as I’m here to help you find Llewellyn.”

“We won’t be throwing you in the cells. Margret will have my hide if she knew that I threw her favourite butcher in jail again,” Brackenreid says.

“Sir! We got – oh dear. Hello Mr. Walker,” George trails off as he spots Jack in the office. “I’m glad to see you here. Detective Watts would be happy to know that you’re helping us find him.”

Jack gives a tight nod in reply and Murdoch asks, “What have you, George?”

“We... well the crown prosecutor received a message and a photograph,” he says, fiddling with a folder he is holding.

“What the message?”

“Perhaps it would be upsetting for Mr. Walker to see it, maybe we can view it in your office—“

“No,” Jack interrupts. “If it has to do with Llewellyn, I want to be privy to it.”

George hesitates but at a nod from Brackenreid, he hands over the folder to Murdoch. In the folder is a letter and a photograph. On the back of the photograph reads, “Release Harry Price by 7:00 tonight or else the detective dies.”

Murdoch turns over the photos and nearly drops it in surprise. The picture shows Llewellyn’s bloodied face. He’s glaring at the person behind camera, though his left eye swollen shut from a particularly nasty black eye. Blood is dripping from his nose, staining his mouth and chin, but despite the blood, Watts looks defiant.

“May I see?”

“Mr. Walker, this might be very upsetting,” Julia interrupts.

Still Jack holds out a hand and after a slight hesitation, Murdoch hands the photograph to him. With a strangled cry, Jack takes it, unable to take his eyes off the sight of Llewellyn’s battered face.

“Here, come sit,” Julia says gently, taking his arm to guide him to the couch. Jack is shaking, still staring horrified at the photo, so Julia rubs his arm firmly but gently to draw his attention. “We will get him back, Mr. Walker.”

“There’s instructions on how we’re to release Mr. Price in the letter that came with the photo,” George explains.

“This all but confirms that Carl Price is our kidnapper. Now we have communications open with the kidnapper, we will be able to find Detective Watts soon,” Brackenreid says.

Jack looks him, tears fighting to fall. “He’s hurt. How do you know he’s alive?”

“Whoever has him won’t kill him if they think that we’ll give them Price,” Murdoch says logically.

“You need to get him back,” Jack begs. “Please.”

“We’re working on it and we’ll get him back in one piece,” Brackenreid says. “Crabtree.” He beckons to George as he steps out of his office.

George nods and starts to follow the Inspector out of the office, but he doubles back to Jack who is still on the couch, clutching the photograph tightly. “Jack, don’t worry. Detective Watts is strong and I’m sure he’s fighting to get back home to you.”

Jack nods, his face pale and it seems like he isn’t actually listening. Following Brackenreid, George leaves the office as Jack hands back the photo to Murdoch.

“May I suggest I take him to our home?” Julia says to Murdoch. “You can keep us updated on the phone.”

“Of course,” Murdoch replies. “Mr. Walker. We’re doing everything we can do and we won’t rest until we have Detective Watts back.”

Jack gets a bit unsteadily to his feet and shakes Murdoch’s hand. “Thank you, Detective.”

Julia guides Jack out of the station house, out the back way just in case. She waves down a cab and takes him back to the Murdoch-Ogden house. Jack is still shaky, though the colour is returning to his cheeks. Julia sits him down in front of the fire place and leaves to come back later with a tray of things for tea. “Or maybe you would prefer something a bit stronger?”

“No, the tea is fine,” he says, taking the cup from Julia. “Thank you.”

He takes a sip a quickly, burning his tongue in his haste, but paying no mind.

Silence takes over the house as Julia sits down in the other chair with her own cup of tea. Jack puts his tea back down after a couple of sips, feeling too nauseous to drink any more.

Julia has not studied homosexuality in her place as a psychiatrist, though of course she had read paper in the medical journals on studies on homosexuality. In the cases that she and Murdoch had solved with persons who are homosexual, she had noticed the same attachment to their partners as in heterosexual relationships. Emily had been equally grief-stricken when Lillian died as many wives who had lost their husbands. Homosexual relationships needed a certain level of trust before the relationship started that the heterosexual couple do not need. They must trust in their partner to not reveal their true nature to all of society. Jack and Owen Paxton’s relationship was different than other homosexual relationships since Owen Paxton was nearly openly homosexual while Jack was not. Detective Watts and Jack’s relationship was a secret and even though Julia knew about both of their sexuality, she had not known about their relationship. Julia scrutinizes Jack across the top of her tea cup. He’s less pale than at the station house, but still shaken, his leg is jittering up and down and his arms are crossed protectively across his chest.

“Tell me about Detective Watts,” Julia says in a voice she reserves for talking to patients.

“You’ve known him longer than I,” Jack mumbles.

“Well, I suppose so,” Julia says. “The first time I met him, he told me that my tie wasn’t a good choice.”

Jack chuckles a little. “That does sound like Llew.” His fingers tap against the arms of the chair as he stares blankly at unlit fire place. With a deep breath, he starts to speak, “Llewellyn is the sweetest man I’ve met. He’s... he’s never been in our kind of relationship before. He was so unsure and nervous first, but now... he’s amazing to me. I’ve had... I’ve had men who are cruel and have treated me badly and society has ostracized me for love. I thought that when I met Owen that our relationship was love but when Llewellyn shows me love... my past relationships can not hold a candle against that. Llewellyn has been... Llewellyn has been amazing to me. The world hasn’t been good to him, but he’s kind to me. He... he adores me. I can’t imagine a life without him.”

Surreptitiously, Jack swipes at his eyes and Julia tactfully doesn’t comment.

“What if he doesn’t come back?” Jack asks in a small voice.

“Mr. Walker, you can’t think like that.”

“But he... What if Detective Murdoch can’t find Llewellyn? He could be dead right now. Someone could’ve stabbed him and dumped him in a alley way or in the river—“

“You must not give up hope yet. Detective Murdoch is the best person who can be looking for him and he has the Inspector, Constable Crabtree and the whole constabulary out looking for him.”

Jack doesn't reply to that. He so badly wants to believe in what Julia is saying, but there’s a little part of his brain that’s whispering, _“but what if?”_


	3. chapter 3

Brackenreid stands in front of the crowd of constables giving orders. “We need to find Carl Price, brother of Harry Price. This is your first and _only_ priority. You got that?”

There was a murmur of agreement from the constables.

“We’re looking for information about a farm wagon with a broken wheel seen last morning around Maude and Adelaide. Talk to any vendors who get their supplies out of town farmers. Track down those farmers and see their wagons. _Any_ information must be brought back to Murdoch or I,” he growls. “We’re going to bring Detective Watts back. Now, what are you waiting for? I want answers an hour ago!”

The constables all scramble out of the door.

Meanwhile, Murdoch is at the jail, once again confronting Harry Price.

“Your brother has kidnapped Detective Watts and is holding him hostage in exchange for your release,” he says.

Price chuckles. “Good for him.”

“Where is your brother?”

“How should I know?” Price says with a feigned air of nonchalance. “I’ve been in there for the past six months.”

“We both you know you know,” Murdoch says. “Tell us where he is and we’ll see that he’s treated fairly.”

“If you can’t find him in time, what are you going to do?” Price sneers.

“I’ve talked to Prosecutor Evans and he’s prepared to offer you a deal,” Murdoch says.

“Well, I’m all ears.”

“You will meet your brother, then bring him to the rendezvous point where we will be waiting. If there are any problems, you’re going to give us the signal. If you double cross us, our deal will be null and void.”

“And what do I get in return?”

“We won’t pursue the death sentence,” Murdoch says.

After a staring contest, Price yields and nods. “Give me official papers with our agreement and I’ll do it.”

After the papers are signed, Murdoch returns to the station house to tell the others the agreement was signed and to coordinate the ambush. “How do we know we can trust him?” Brackenreid asks what everyone is thinking.

“I’ll put my trackerizer in his shoe,” Murdoch says, holding up his invention. “Even if he shakes off our tails, we will know where they go and be able to find Detective Watts.”

“How many constables?”

“I got ten constables ready.”

“Call in everyone off duty and make it fifteen,” Brackenreid says. When Murdoch raises his eye brow, Brackenreid clarifies, “There’s no way we can let Price get away with this.”

Murdoch unlocks the handcuffs on Harry’s wrists. “You remember the deal,” he says. “Bring your brother to us and we’ll keep up our end of the deal.”

He watches him leave the courthouse and calls into the station house. “Price left the court house, heading west.”

“Crabtree is on his tail,” Brackenreid says and hangs up. A couple of minutes later, the phone rings again and Brackenried says, “He’s heading north on Euclid. Higgins is on his tail.”

Quickly, Murdoch goes to a predetermined interception point, arriving at Collage and Euclid in time to see Price continuing down the street, Higgins and McNabb tailing behind him. Murdoch, shortly after joined by Crabtree, follow Price up to the railroad by Dupont where he turns into an alley way. Staying back, Murdoch watches as Price waits in a shadowy empty lot. The other constables join their surveillance, Murdoch signals them to spread out around the lot.

From across the rails, Carl Price comes out from the shadows. “Harry!” he calls out, his voice filled with emotion.

“Carl.” Harry Price embraces his brother. “Good to see you brother.”

“We’re going to be alright now. That cop who accused you of killing Florence will never bother you again. I’ve made sure of it.” Carl answers with a grin. “Let’s get going.”

“Just one moment,” Harry says. “Do you have a something to protect yourself with?”

“Huh? Yeah, I have your gun,” Carl says, pulling out a pistol from his pocket.

Carl hands his brother a silver revolver which Harry takes with a grin. Harry says, “Ah, my darling...”

In a flash, Harry brings the gun up to Carl’s head and shoots him point blank. Carl Price hits the ground, dead before anyone could blink.

“No! Everyone, go, go, go!” Murdoch shouts.

All of the constables rush forward, but Harry just grins and raises the gun to his head. With a jaunty salute, he pulls the trigger and falls to the ground dead.

“No!” Murdoch turns and shoves the stack of crates that was standing behind him, sending them cascading them down to the ground. The two brothers are dead and with them, the secret of where Watts is will be buried with them unless Murdoch can find him before it’s too late.

At the Murdoch house, Jack jumps up from his seat and peers through the window every couple of moments. His fingers taps against his thigh when he’s sitting and flip open his pocket watch during his pacing. When the clock on the wall chimes 7:00, Jack jumps and a wild look of hope shines in his eyes. In the chair, Julia watches as Jack parts the curtains again to peer out on the street.

“Mr. Walker, we need to be patient,” she says, rising to stand by his side. “He’ll be here as soon as he can. Now come sit down and I’ll make you some tea.”

Jack’s foot taps as Julia pours out yet another cup of tea for them. He remembers early on Monday morning when Llewellyn kissed his cheek and promised to pick him up at 7:15 Tuesday evening. It seems so long ago now. Llewellyn never breaks a promise to him. A little part of his heart hopes that Llewellyn will keep this promise and walk through the door, give him a kiss and take him home. They hear footsteps on the front walk and Jack jumps up, calling out Llewellyn’s name. The door opens, but it’s only Murdoch and George who enters the house.

“Is Llewellyn with you?” Jack asks anxiously.

“Mr. Walker, please sit down and we’ll tell you what happened,” Murdoch says.

He fumbles as he sinks down into the chair. “Where’s Llewellyn?”

“We did all necessary precautions, there were constables ready, and we were prepared to follow the Prices to find Detective Watts.”

“What happened?” Jack asks, his hands gripping the arms of the chair.

“Carl Price brought his brother a gun and his brother used the gun to kill him and then shot himself.”

All the hope that had been building up in Jack is dashed in that one sentence.

“What?” Julia gasps. “They’re dead?”

“Both,” Crabtree confirms.

“But... you still must know where Carl Price took Detective Watts!” Julia presses.

“There were no clue about where Detective Watts is. Carl Price is the only one who knew where Detective Watts is and now he’s dead.”

“How are we going to find Detective Watts now?”

Murdoch hesitates before saying, “I don’t know.”

Suddenly, Jack jumps up and gasps out, “Excuse me,” before running to the backdoor into the back garden.

Julia makes to follow, but George stops her. “Let me talk to him.”

Following Jack into the backyard, George hears the sounds of Jack being sick into the bushes. Jack stumbles away from the bushes, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. There’s a bench in the back of the garden where Jack sits down, burying his face in his hands.

“Are you alright, Jack?” George asks, sitting down beside him.

Jack laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “How can I be alright?” he asks. “The only hope to find Llewellyn is now dead. What if we can’t find him in time and he starves to death? What if he’s already dead?”

“You can’t lose all hope,” George encourages.

“I need him so badly. He’s consumed me fully. If there’s a time that he’s no longer in my life, I will no longer be whole. This can not be our end, but it seems like it is. How can this be the end for Llewellyn? It can’t be. It can’t be!”

Jack’s voice raises at the end and his breath starts to come out in ragged gasps. His fingers tangle in his hair, messing up his usually neat hair. He rocks back and forth, unable to contain the thoughts of loss racing through his head.

“Jack! Take deep breaths! You need to calm down or else you’ll pass out,” George’s firm voice calls out. George rubs Jack’s back with one hand and tries to take Jack’s hand from where its buried tightly in his hair. When he manages, Jack’s hand grips his with an iron grip as he tries to calm his breathing.

“Sorry,” Jack mumbles, rubbing his face as he tries to hide his tears. “I can’t bear the thought if Llewellyn is dead.”

“What do you feel in your heart?”

“Sorry?”

“Do you feel in your heart that Detective Watts is dead?” George asks softly. “Or do you feel his heart still alive with you?”

Jack lets out a shuddering breath and lifts his eyes to the dark cloudy night sky. His side feels so empty without Llewellyn even if George is sitting there beside him. Logic and probability tells him that Llewellyn was dead, probably dead since the morning he was kidnapped, that some time soon they would find his decomposing body floating down the Don, but his heart rebels from the idea, conjuring up images of Llewellyn whole, strong and alive. “Yes,” he decides. “He’s alive.”

“I can feel that in my heart too,” George says. “We’re going to bring him home.”

“How? The only lead you have is gone,” Jack asks.

“We have a mystery and if we have a mystery, Detective Murdoch can solve it,” George says confidently. He stands up and holds out a hand to Jack. “Come on, it’s too chilly out here.”

Taking George’s hand, Jack stands up, his knees shaking and his breath still catching in his throat every couple of breaths. George pats him on the back. “We’re going to bring him home,” he promises again.

“Thank you, George. You’re a true friend.”

Jack follows George back to the house. Before entering the Murdoch-Ogden house again, Jack looks back out at the sky.

 _Llewellyn, stay strong please. For me._ He wraps the thoughts in a prayer and sends them up in to the sky, hoping that Llewellyn would hear his words.

It’s dark. Even the little slivers of light that gave Llewellyn hope are gone. It’s so dark that there’s no difference if he has his eyes open or close. He drifts between awareness and unconscious. Visions crosses his eyes. He watches them, unsure if they are dream, reality or hallucination.

“Llewellyn.” His mother kneels in front of him, her kind eyes sparkling with her smile. “My child. Come here.”

She gathers him in her arms, holding him as if he’s still a child. He snuggles down into her loving embrace as she sings a lullaby in his ear. _“Shlof mayn kind, mayn treyst mayn sheyner, Shlof zhe, lyu-lyu-lyu! Shlof mayn lebn, mayn kadish eyner, Shlof zhe, zunenyu.”_

“Mama,” Llewellyn murmurs. “Why did you leave me alone?”

“I never have,” she whispers into her ear. “Sleep, my child.”

Against his wish, his eyes flutters shut and he melts back into darkness, waking minutes, maybe hours later back alone and cold in the dark.

The ceiling collapses in and the dust and Detective Murdoch and Constable Crabtree look over the lip on the hole. Crabtree grins down at him. “Detective Watts! Detective Murdoch used one of his inventions to track your whereabouts!”

“Well, actually last time you fell asleep at the office, I took out your liver and replaced it with a transmitter. After finding you were gone it was easy to track you!”

The ground falls away and Watts falls into unconsciousness once again. His liver is thankful that it is only a dream.

Jack comes and pulls him into an embrace, pulling up their covers to enclose them in a warm cocoon of safety. With a gentle kiss, he heals Llewellyn’s wounds, the bruises fading, cuts knitting back together, and the pain melting away. He whispers sweet nothings and promises safety, but all too soon, the dream fades and Llewellyn is alone in the cold again.

“Llewy!” a familiar voice calls.

“Hubert?” Llewellyn strains to see in the dark.

To his left, he sees his brother standing there as clear as daylight in the darkness. Hubert gives him a big grin and says, “Llewy! You are here too! C’mon, we’re going to the park!”

There’s a lump in his throat from seeing his brother so clearly. “I can’t get up, Huey,” Llewellyn says.

“Why not?”

“I’m tired... I’m too weak.”

“No. You’re coming with me. I’ll come and untie you.”

Hubert comes closer but out of the shadows comes Nigel Baker. He grabs Hubert and plummets him with punches to the ground.

“HUBERT!” Llewellyn struggles up to his feet, still bound to the pillar, but he strains towards Hubert and Nigel. “No! Get away from him!”

Hubert’s cries of pain and the sickening sound of fists against flesh fill his ears. Llewellyn screams for Hubert again and again, begging for Baker to stop. His wrists are cut raw by the cuffs around them as he struggles and screams out, “For God’s sake leave him alone! Please! Stop! He hasn’t done anything! Get away from him! Please. Hurt me instead!”

There’s a loud crack of the sound of a neck being broken, or maybe it’s Llewellyn’s mind snapping and he’s finally insane. Baker melts back into the shadows and leaves the bloodied body of Hubert behind. Llewellyn collapses back against his bonds, sobbing hard as he stares at the dead body in front of him.

Before his eyes, the body of Hubert melts into the beaten form of Daniel... then Clarissa laying splayed and throat slashed... then Jackson dead on his back from bullet wounds... Murdoch dead... Dr. Ogden dead... John... George... the Inspector...

His sweet Jack lying in a puddle of blood, a glassy blank stare looking up at him nearly accusingly.

_You didn’t protect me._

Llewellyn curls up into a small a ball as possible and sobs into his knees. As hard as he tries he can’t take his eyes off of the broken form of Jack, dead because of him.

_All your fault._


	4. chapter 4

Sunlight starts creeping over the horizon as George sits at his desk, staring at the papers in front of him, unable to find anything that would help him find Detective Watts. He stretches and walks over to the water cooler in the bull pen to get a drink, hoping to clear his head. There is the night constable at the front desk. Brackenreid had gone back home at half one in the morning. The only one remaining is Murdoch who is in his office, hunched over his table, doing something with a microscope. Ogden had failed to convince him to go back home, he insisted that he could find where Watts is by the dirt on the boots of Carl Price.

George stands up and stretches. Knocking on Detective Murdoch’s door, he enters. “Sir?”

“What have you, George?” Murdoch asks without looking up from his slides.

“I was just wondering if there was anything you needed help on. I haven’t found anything in the papers from city hall.”

Murdoch nods and finally looks up. At the sight of George, his expression softens. “Go home, George,” Murdoch says gently.

“No, I don’t think I can,” Crabtree says. “Detective Watts... we need to get him back home.”

“I know,” Murdoch says. “but we can’t help Detective Watts if we’re sleep deprived.”

“I can say the same to you, sir.”

“I nearly know where the soil samples the dirt I took from the bottom of Price’s shoes came from,” Murdoch says, waving his hand at a map pinned up on the blackboard. “I just need to work out these last figures...”

“Then I’ll stay and help you.” George settles down on a nearby stool and they get to work. It’s nearly eight in the morning and all of the other constables have arrived for their shift, when Murdoch finally shouts, “I’ve got it!”

Brackenreid comes in from his office. “You know where Detective Watts is?”

“Yes, or well, at least I know where Carl Price was before he went to go meet his brother. It’s an abandoned farm house a couple of miles out of the city. According to city records it belonged to Florence Price’s second cousin who lives in Manitoba.”

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s get a move on.”

Murdoch, Crabtree and Brackenreid race ahead of the rest of the police force and Julia with an ambulance to the farm. The road into the property was over grown, but there were fresh imprints from a wagon passing through there in the past couple of days. The farm house was empty, a couple of cans of food littered the table and a wall of obsessive notes covered the kitchen walls. There was a small makeshift cot in the corner were Carl Price must have been sleeping, but no sign of Watts.

Heading out to the barn on the property, they spread out, looking through the rickety stables and unstable rafters.

“Sirs, look,” George calls over the Inspector and Detective to where he was standing in the back corner next to a trap door in the ground. “There’s a new lock.”

“Good eye, George,” Murdoch says as he pats his pockets to find his lock pick set.

“Bugger that Murdoch.” The Inspector swings his cane at the lock and breaks it open.

“Oh... good job, sir.” Taking off the broken padlock and opening the hatch, Murdoch leans over the edge of the trapdoor with his flashlight. “Detective Watts?” With no answer, he sits up and looks around. “George, get that ladder,” he orders, pointing one lying on the dust barn floor.

Feeding the ladder down the hatch, Murdoch is the first to go down, followed closely by Crabtree then Brackenreid. Murdoch shines his flashlight around the cellar, calling out Watts’ name. George with his own flashlight steps behind a stack of crates. The soft beam of light lands on the crumpled form of Watts. His hands are locked in front of him around a pillar and he’s slouched, his head hanging in unconsciousness. “Detective Watts!” George cries. “Sirs! I found him!”

Hurrying past Crabtree, Murdoch reaches Watts first and reaches for his pulse. He gives a nod to the others as he finds a steady pulse.

“Detective Watts?” Murdoch spoke loudly and gave him a short and firm shake. “Detective Watts, can you hear me?”

The movement and noise rouses a moan from Watts, his brow furrows slightly, but doesn’t wake up. Casting an eye down Watt’s battered body, Murdoch requests, “George, get Detective Watts a blanket or something to keep him warm,” as he pulls out his lock pick set to undo the locks around Watts’ wrists. “and get Julia.”

Crabtree takes off to call Ogden. Without even waiting for someone to get a blanket, Brackenreid takes off his jacket and places it around Watt’s shoulders as Murdoch frees Watt’s wrists, revealing bruised and bloodied skin from struggling against the cuffs. Together Murdoch and Brackenreid eases Watts down to the ground into a more comfortable position. Once Watts positioned on his back, Murdoch places a hand against Watts’ forehead and calls out again, “Detective Watts, can you hear me?”

Slowly, Watt’s eyes flutter open, though one remains shut due to swelling. His eyes light up with recognition and he gives a small smile. “Detective Murdoch... Inspector... it’s good to see you.”

Brackenreid chuckles and says, “It’s good to see you too, Watts. You’re a well wanted man.”

Watts smiles again and makes a move to sit up.

“Stay still,” Murdoch orders, “You’re very injured.”

“No, no. I’m not going to stay in here a moment longer. I’m getting out of here on my own two feet.”

He holds Murdoch’s gaze until Murdoch looks away first and nods. “Alright, put your arm around my shoulders.”

Murdoch puts his arm around Watt’s back and with a gentle warning, he helps Watts off the floor, enticing a loud cry of pain from Watts, but when Murdoch stops and starts to lower him back down, Watts cries out, “No, I can do it, let’s keep on going.”

It’s slow going, Watt’s being supported by Murdoch more than he is walking by his own power. When they reach the ladder up, Watts detangles himself from Murdoch and determinedly grasps at the ladder. Brackenreid and Murdoch exchange a look of worry behind Watts, but surprisingly, with strength that they didn’t think he had, Watts manages to pull himself up the ladder. At the top, Watts drags himself out of the trapdoor and collapses in a pile next to it. Murdoch quickly pulls himself out next and places a hand on Watts’ shoulder, calling his name again to which Watts replies with a weak answer.

“Watts, why don’t you stay here—“

“No.” Despite his weak voice, he holds out a determined hand to Murdoch to which Murdoch can only sigh and help him up to his feet again. Limping and to a soundtrack of pained gasps from Watts, they made their way through the barn and out to the fields outside. When the sun hits his face, Watts lets out a louder groan which causes Murdoch to halt their progress, but the groan is a happy and relieved groan, so he continues helping Watts a bit farther away from the barn until they reach a sturdy oak where he lowers Watts down to sit up against the tree.

Watts lets out a protest again when he’s sat down, but he doesn’t fight it. Instead he tips his face back to revel in the warm sun light after days in the dark, his eyes squeezes shut against the bright light. Murdoch flutters nervously and unsure around Watts, but it’s Brackenreid who takes charge. He removes Watts’ tie and loosens the first couple of buttons on his shirt. When Watts starts shaking and shivering, Brackenreid replaces his jacket around Watts’ torso. Spitting onto a handkerchief, he wipes the dried blood off of Watts’ face, perhaps a bit too roughly, but Watts nearly looks better when he’s clean.

A few minutes later, there is the sound of a wagon and Julia hops out of the back of the ambulance with George.

“Hello Detective,” Julia says as she kneels by his side. “How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?”

“I’m cold,” Llewellyn says, his head rolling weakly up and his eyes remaining closed. “My arms hurts, my head... my chest... everywhere.”

Julia smiles sympathetically. “If it’s alright, I would like to look you over.” With a nod from him, she starts an examination, explaining what she’s doing throughout. She checks his pulse, finding it a little too fast for comfort. Placing the inside of her wrist against his forehead, she frowns at the cool touch of his skin. Julia pulls away Brackenreid’s jacket to access Watt’s torso and arms. George gives a sharp intake of breath when he sees the raw and bloodied skin of Watt’s wrists. She takes out a stethoscope and with Murdoch’s help pulls Watts forward to place the drum of the stethoscope on Watts’ back. She doesn’t show her worry from the shallow breaths that Watts takes, most likely from broken ribs she can feel. After her assessment, Julia tucks Brackenreid’s jacket back around him along with another blanket from the hospital, hoping to drive away the seemingly permanent shiver that’s wracking through Watts’ body. She looks up at his face, gently moving his head this way and that, and running her hands around his skull to check for bumps or wounds. Finding none, she looks at Watts to find his eyes still shut, though she knew he was awake from the hisses of pain that he had let slip. “Detective Watts... Llewellyn, can you open your eyes for me?”

Slowly, he shakes his head.

“Please, Llewellyn.”

“And if you’re gone when I open my eyes? If this is all a dream and I’m back in the cellar? It’s happened before. I would like to remain in this fantasy and enjoy the sun while I can.”

“If you open your eyes, you won’t be alone,” Julia promises. “I’m right here, so is William, George and the Inspector. Jack will be here very soon. Llewellyn, please. You won’t be alone.”

Slowly, Watts opens his functioning eye slightly, his eye watering against the bright light. When he makes eye contact, Julia gives him a smile and gets a weak smile in response. “You’re safe now. We’re going to get you to the hospital,” she promises. “Then you’ll be back to normal very soon, you’ll be able to go back home.”

“Home... I’ve missed my Jack...” Llewellyn mumbles, his eyes watering for a different reason now. All of the strength seems to leave him at the same time as he sags forward, William and Julia have to catch him. Julia calls for the stretcher from the ambulance. Watts doesn’t move while they lift him to the stretcher, but reopens his eye when they start moving, fixing on the bright blue sky above him. He smiles, a very happy smile despite everything that has happened to him. “I would very much like to see Jack,” he says with a happy sigh.

Julia gives him a smile and pats his hand. “And you will,” she promises. “Now rest. Mr. Walker will be right beside you when you wake up.” 

Jack spent the whole afternoon pacing in the Murdoch’s house. He had received news that they had found Llewellyn and were taking him to the hospital, but he couldn’t be seen at the hospital outside of Llewellyn’s room without raising suspicions. After visiting hours were over, Detective Murdoch came back home to pick up Jack and took him to the hospital, smuggling him in through the back. They had managed to get a private room for Llewellyn – perks of being a police officer and all that – and Julia was the only doctor allowed in, so there was no worry.

Entering Llewellyn’s room, the hospital room is softly light by a lamp by the bed. Jack takes off his hat and sits in the chair beside the bed, his knees feeling suddenly rubbery as he sees his sweetheart on the bed.

Llewellyn is lying on the bed, a thin layer of sweat shining on his brow from the fever, but otherwise is resting peacefully. Blankets are pulled up to his chest and his wrists are swathed with bandages. Hidden under the hospital issued clothes, his whole torso is blue and black with bruises and there is particularly brilliantly coloured bruise over a broken rib. Jack brushes his fingers against Llewellyn’s cheek, saddened by the bruises that marred his handsome face. His nose had been broken then realigned at the hospital, but the bruises under his eyes remain.

When Llewellyn let out a small moan, Jack jerks up, his name rising to his lips, but Llewellyn doesn’t rouse further. The sweat shining on Llewellyn’s brow worries Jack so he takes out his handkerchief and dampens it with water from a carafe. Gently, he dabs away the sweat and pushes away his curls that were sticking on his forehead. When Llewellyn arrived at the hospital, he had a mild case of hypothermia, but over night, he developed a slight fever. According to Julia, there was a chance that Llewellyn would develop pneumonia, but assures Jack that if he develops pneumonia, there are medicines that will help.

With a frown, Jack re-fluffs the pillow under Llewellyn’s arm and pulls the blankets higher around Llewellyn’s shoulders. Satisfied Llewellyn is now comfortable and with a little kiss on his forehead, Jack settles in the chair, ready to wait as long as he needed for Llewellyn to wake up.


	5. Chapter 5

Everything is dark, which isn’t new, but underneath him is something soft and he’s lying quite comfortably on his back. Llewellyn gives an experimental wiggle of his fingers before he realizes that his arms are no longer bound together. He furrows his brow as he tries to make sense of this.

“Llewellyn?”

It’s nice to hear Jack’s voice. It seems more real than it had previous times that he heard it.

“Llewellyn. It’s okay, I’m here. Can you open your eyes?”

For the past few days, he’s been unsure if his eyes are open or closed, in the darkness of the cellar it didn’t make much difference. Llewellyn knows that when he opens his eyes, he’ll only see more darkness. Once again, he hears Jack asking for him to open his eyes and what Jack asks for, Jack gets.

The swelling of his black eye has abated slightly allowing both eyes to open. Slowly, Llewellyn opens his eyes and he gets the shock of his life when a golden glow of a lamp greets his eyes. He blinks a couple of times but each time the glow remains, clearing a bit more each time.

“Llewellyn!”

He turns his head to the side and his eyes landed on Jack. Jack’s face splits into a huge smile when Llewellyn makes eye contact. Immediately his eyes well up and so does Jack’s. For a long moment, they just stare at each other, drinking in the sight of each other.

Finally, Jack breaks. Sobs escape him as he raises his hands towards Llewellyn, unsure if he can hold him or not. Llewellyn takes his hands and gives them a kiss before bringing him in close. He pulls Jack almost all the way into the bed with him, not caring that this jars his bruises. Llewellyn kisses the top of Jack’s head, only barely stopping himself from crying with Jack.

“Oh god, I missed you, I missed you so much, I’ve been so worried,” Jack whispers.

Llewellyn responds by pressing another kiss against Jack’s temple. Everything feels overwhelming and there’s no way that he can find the words answer Jack. He can only kiss Jack’s brow then cheek, then every part of his face he can reach.

“You‘re safe now,” Jack says. “The Inspector and Detective Murdoch found you and brought you back to the hospital where Doctor Ogden patched you up. I’m going to take you home and you’re going to be safe with me forever. I’m not going to let you out of my sight again.”

Llewellyn chuckles and tries to hold Jack closer, but gasps in pain as he puts too much pressure on his chest. Jack springs back in alarm but Llewellyn grasps his arms to keep him from going too far.

“I should go get Doctor Ogden to check you over,” Jack says as he wipes away tears.

Finally Llewellyn manages to find words to say, “No, stay. Please.”

“I’ll be right back,” Jack promises. He gives him one more kiss and hurries out of the room.

The door closes behind him and Llewellyn immediately is filled with a need to have Jack back. Slowly, he swings his feet out of the bed. For a moment, he needs to wait for the black spots blurring his vision to disappear. He lets out a low moan of pain as he stands up, the movement jarring his ribs, but still determinedly starts to make his way across the floor. His legs feel weak and rubbery, and he can only walk in a slow, limping shuffle, his arms wrapped protectively around his ribs.

Before he can make it to the door, it reopens to Jack and Doctor Ogden.

“Detective Watts!” Julia scolds. “How did you even get out of bed?”

“I just... I wanted to see... Jack,” Llewellyn explains through short pants, the only way he could without hurting his ribs.

“I said I would be right back,” Jack chides as he takes arm to guide him back to his bed.

“I know. I...” Once again, Llewellyn can’t find the words to express how much he needed Jack. Days in the dark and Llewellyn thought of many words he would say to Jack if he was so fortunate to see him again, but now he’s there, he can’t find the proper words.

Julia gives him a smile as they settle down on the bed, Jack nervously fluttering around him, fluffing his pillows and tucking blankets around him.

“I need to check you over now that you’re awake,” Doctor Ogden says, pulling out her stethoscope. Llewellyn tries his best to pay attention the check up, but he can’t help but check that Jack is indeed there beside him every couple of moments. Every time he checks, Jack is there, his eyes never leaving him for even a moment.

“Deep breath,” Doctor Ogden orders, placing the cold stethoscope on his back. Llewellyn tries to take a deep breath, but the movement jars his broken ribs and a surprised gasp of pain escapes him. Immediately, Jack leaps up and grasps his hand. Llewellyn manages a weak smile of thanks as he tries to steady his breath. When Doctor Ogden asks for him to try again, it’s a shuddering and rather shallow breath, but by holding Jack’s hand tightly in his, he’s able to make it through the rest of the check up.

After it’s finished, Doctor Ogden explains all of his injuries to him. At the end, she says, “If you feel up to it, I believe that Mr. Walker has something for you to eat.”

He nods eagerly, swinging around to Jack. Doctor Ogden leaves with the promise that she’ll be back and orders for Llewellyn to eat and sleep.

Jack pulls up a table tray, and unpacks a soup and small bite sized sandwiches. “Have you eaten since breakfast on Monday?”

Llewellyn shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the food on the tray, his dignity the only thing keeping him from lunging forward and scarfing down the food. Jack picks up the spoon and the soup. After taking a sip of the soup himself to make sure the temperature, holds out the spoon to Llewellyn. Nearly frantically, Llewellyn grabs the spoon from Jack and starts to shovel soup into his mouth.

“Whoa, Llew, slow down.” Jack touches Llewellyn’s arm, causing him to jump and nearly spill the soup all over himself. “You’re going to choke.”

Llewellyn whines and resists Jack taking the bowl from him, but relents as sudden influx of food in his empty stomach has caused some nausea. Jack strokes his arm lightly with a soft smile. “Here, I’ll feed you, okay?”

One spoonful at a time, Jack feeds Llewellyn the whole bowl.

“You haven’t said much,” Jack says as he spoons the last spoonful into Llewellyn’s mouth. “Are you okay?”

Llewellyn nods, suddenly fixated by a loose thread on the blanket. His tongue somehow feels stuck to the top of his mouth and words he wants to say die in the back of his throat. Too many words to say to Jack. He’s written sonnets and epics to Jack while in the cellar, but now, he can’t find even a word to comfort Jack and tell him he’s okay.

Jack seems to understand though, for which Llewellyn is grateful. He just fusses with Llewellyn’s blankets, helping him ease down against the pillows after the soup and tucks the blanket back around Llewellyn. After he was settled, Jack sits back down in the chair beside his bed and takes his hand, but Llewellyn tugs at his hand hard, pulling him onto the bed beside him. Jack chuckles and removes his jacket before laying down beside him, his arm carefully resting where there is no bruising.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Jack whispers against his curls. “I’ve been so worried, so helpless in the past few days. I should’ve just stayed with you in bed on Monday morning instead of insisting that we go to work.”

Llewellyn chuckles and absentmindedly rubs the edge of Jack’s collar between two fingers. It’s a bit wrinkled as if Jack hasn’t been back to his house for a day or two. His tie is untidy, loosened and retied over and over again. Jack had truly been worried about him. Somehow this revelation makes Llewellyn’s eyes tear up.

“Hey,” Jack says softly. “It’s alright. You’re safe. I’m here.”

Llewellyn nods and buries his nose closer into Jack’s chest. Here, with Jack’s scent filling his nose and his arms holding him firmly, it is easier to let the words leave his lips. “I’ve missed you so much,” he chokes out. “When I was in that cellar, I thought I would never see you again.”

“I thought I lost you too,” Jack says. “I was nearly convinced that I would find your body in the Don...”

Llewellyn squeezes his hand. “That won’t happen. I promise.”

“You can’t promise on behalf of every single criminal in Toronto,” Jack tries to joke.

“I know. But I promise to you that no matter what happens, I’ll make my way home to you.”

Llewellyn stares into the fire as Jack lays in his lap, reading a book. When they had returned from the hospital, Jack had ushered him to the couch and didn’t allow him to get up for anything. He took off Llewellyn’s jacket, vest and tie, instead wrapping him in a dressing gown and piling blankets on top of him. Even though Dr. Ogden had declared that he had recovered from the hypothermia, Jack still fused to make sure that he was warm enough as he stoked up the fire. In front of the roaring fire, they ate dinner together on the couch and now Jack was reading a book as Llewellyn is buried deep in thought. He’s jarred out of his thoughts when Jack touches his cheek. Jack smiles and sits up, putting his book to the side. “What are you thinking about?” he asks softly.

“It’s... it’s nothing.”

“It’s taking a lot of space in here,” Jack says, touching his temple. “Maybe it would be a relief if you got it out here.”

Llewellyn smiles slightly, his eyes distant still mulling over his thoughts. “When I was in the cellar, I was in the dark for a lot of the time... I had hallucinations. Maybe dreams, visions... You were there in a lot of them and you held me and comforted me.”

Jack gives him a smile and presses a kiss on Llewellyn’s palm. Llewellyn grips Jack’s hand before he can pull away, savouring the feel of his hand in his.

“There was one ha... one hallucination where I saw Nigel Baker beat Hubert.” His breath hitches but he plows on before he can be interrupted. “Hubert’s dead body was lying there then his body turned into Daniel’s, then Clarrisa’s, then everyone’s in the station house... and lastly you.”

“Oh Llew.” Jack cups his check gently. “It’s alright. It wasn’t real.”

“I know,” he says as he leans his cheek into Jack’s hand. “That wasn’t the only hallucination I had. I saw the future.”

“The future? Really? What was it like?”

“It wasn’t just our future. It was society’s future. There was technology that seems impossible. There were machines that had libraries of information in the size of a notebook, that could communicate with people across the country in an instant, and had small cameras that could take pictures in the brightest of colours. Automobiles were going impossible speeds and buildings like the Eiffel Tower reaching up to the sky everywhere.”

“It seems like a future that Detective Murdoch would enjoy,” Jack teases. “What else?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes.” Llewellyn turns to face him fully. “You and I. We were walking down the street together. We were holding hands out in public. We had wedding rings.”

“Wedding rings?”

“Yes, we were married. Imagine a future where we could be married, where we could be _us_ anywhere we wanted without having to worry about our secret.”

Jack drops his gaze. “Llewellyn...”

“Imagine it Jack!” Llewellyn says. “Where homosexuality is no longer considered wrong, and where no one can be judged by their race, national or ethnic origin, colour, religion, sex, age or mental or physical disability. We would have opportunity equal with other individuals to make for ourselves the lives we are able and wish to have. Can you imagine that?”

“It seems impossible—”

“I know. Perhaps it was only a fantasy.”

“—but with you, I feel like anything can be possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quoting from the charter of rights and freedom, fun fact for y'all. comment and kudos please!   
> also follow on me on tumblr @thelastsaskdragonrider

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, i wrote chapter 4 first, then came back and wrote chapters 1-3. hope y'all enjoy all of this :D


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